


Song & Dance

by equilateral_asshat



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Burlesque, F/M, pinecest - Freeform, pinescest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-15
Updated: 2018-12-15
Packaged: 2019-09-18 11:35:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16994256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/equilateral_asshat/pseuds/equilateral_asshat
Summary: Wendy’s routine is performed to “Desire” by Meg MyersThe other routine is performed to “Let me be Good to you” from the Great Mouse Detective.





	Song & Dance

**Author's Note:**

> Wendy’s routine is performed to “Desire” by Meg Myers  
> The other routine is performed to “Let me be Good to you” from the Great Mouse Detective.

Dipper Pines was, as usual, a bit skeptical about his current situation.

It was the day he and Mabel had set aside in order to celebrate their birthday, this year, a day or two after they had actually turned twenty one. Mabel had been a little more excited than he was about that, mostly because it meant they no longer had to find underhanded ways to gain access to booze. He had been more excited for it because it was her year to surprise him with a birthday outing, a tradition that had, unintentionally, started when they were only sixteen.

That year, Dipper had scraped together money from his summer jobs and purchased a pair of tickets to see a concert Mabel had been excited for all year. He had also managed to score a pair of backstage passes, which had caused the resulting squeal his sister made to ascend to levels near unhearable by even dogs.

During the concert, the entire time, he had made up his mind that after it was over, and they were backstage, hanging out with the bands and crew, he would tug her aside, and confess his feelings, hoping that she would reciprocate. Once they got backstage and he saw how excited she was to finally meet everyone, he decided that telling his sister he’d fallen in love with her would ruin everything. So he kept his mouth shut. And besides, when all was said and done and they were heading back to the van to head home, she had grabbed him in a tight hug, and planted the warmest, softest, noisiest kiss on his cheek that left an obvious red stain of lipstick. He figured that would be reward enough, for being a good brother.

The next year, she had surprised him by dragging him to a museum all about the supernatural and paranormal. He had been elated, marveling at the exhibits, talking to the curators enthusiastically. A few people even recognized the pair as the twins from Gravity Falls, the year Nevermind-All-That happened, and asked questions of their own. Dipper soon realized, after thanking her for the fantastic day out, he would have to find a good way to one up her the following year.

He managed that by finding a secluded art gallery off the beaten path, and taking Mabel to see it. She ooh’d and aah’d at every piece, snapping pictures when she could, commenting on how she was going to make so many things inspired by everything here. This time, she kissed the other cheek, and he felt those old, suppressed emotions welling up again. She quickly followed the kiss with a snarky response of, “Looks like I gotta out do you again, huh?”

She managed by getting them tickets to West Coast Splatter Con, a horror and sci-fi themed convention. They spent their entire birthday weekend goofing off in costume, talking to other attendees, and catching panels about upcoming movies. Dipper was beside himself with glee, and promised to out do his sister for their next birthday.

A ranch for retired and rescued racing greyhounds had been his answer. Mabel got to do volunteer work there for the entire day, and she had giggled and squealed the entire time. “I’ve never seen so many long dogs in one place!” she exclaimed from under a pile of the canines, each enthusiastically trying to wiggle its way into her lap. Dipper was positive he’d made it impossible to find a better birthday outing than this.

So, now, sitting inside of a bar of all places, he was certain Mabel had given up for a moment. Sure, it was a little bit more of a hipster establishment than your typical dive bar, but it was a dimly-lit, fairly ordinary place. Fairly typical in Portland. His eyes scanned over the patrons and bar itself. The wall near their table had curtains draped over it, but other than that nothing really leapt out at him.

“Okay, Mabel, I’m sorry but this whole place seems sort of… Un-Mabel, as gifts go. I mean, I get it, we’re twenty one now, but a bar?” he inquired. Mabel merely shot him a devious wink, a grin of mischief spreading across her face. “Okay, what am I missing?”

“You’ll just have to wait and see,” she replied, dragging out the last word with a sing-song tone. He grumbled and gave his drink a steady sip.

A minute or so later, the lights suddenly dimmed further, and the curtains near the table swung open to reveal a stage. How had he not realized it was a stage?! A spotlight kicked on, and into the beam of illumination stepped a petite, yet curvy, blonde girl that he was certain he had seen before. She was dressed in a lacy, shimmering gown of sequins and rhinestones, hair falling behind her in a long braid that fell to the small of her back. In a gloved hand, she held a microphone. Dipper glanced over at Mabel, who gave her eyebrows a quick waggle. He turned back to the stage and tried to place why this girl seemed so familiar.

“Hello, ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to yet another production of the Undone bar’s hosting of the Une Touche du Péché burlesque troupe!” she said, and before the words could register, he knew he had also heard her voice before. A few people whistled, or clapped in response, and she gave a small curtsy. “I see we have a lot of regulars here tonight, as well as some newcomers.”

On the word ‘newcomers’, she turned her head directly at the twins, locked eyes with Dipper, and grinned. It finally clicked in his head, and he almost did a double take.

 _Pacifica?!_ he mouthed silently, and she shot him an exaggerated wink.

“As some of you know, I am M’Lady Rapunzel, mistress of ceremonies for the show, so unfortunately you’ll not get to see me shed any of my outfit.” A few people jokingly boo’d at this statement, and Dipper felt red creeping up his face. “However, for the ‘virgins’ in the audience, worry not, because there’s going to be quite a few ladies for you to ogle as the night goes by!”

“Mabes, what’s going on?!” Dipper whispered to his sister. She smirked.

“Just sit tight and watch, and quit worrying about it. We’re adults, what’s the harm in a little striptease?” He groaned, and was now thoroughly convinced she had brought him here to kill him with embarrassment.

“For our opening act tonight,” Pacifica-or, currently, Rapunzel-went on, “We have a crowd favorite! Five feet and eleven inches of stunning, fiery headed woman, our resident lumberjane, Miss Gwendolyn O’Hara!” The spotlight died as Pacifica scurried to the area offstage, and when it came back on, it centered directly onto a stump that had, with surprising stealth, appeared on the stage. Music began with a low droning bass, which was punctuated with a loud, sharp clapping sound.

As that sharp sound struck, so did an axe, directly into the wood. Dipper jumped, having not expected that, and watched as it was wrenched free with the next droning hum of bass, only to be hammered back down into the stump with the next loud clap, gripped tightly in gloved hands.

When the spotlight widened, the hands left the axe’s handle, and Dipper’s soul nearly left his mortal coil. On stage was a sight he had sometimes imagined, daydreamed, or even called to mind when he was trying to relieve himself of certain stiffness, but had never thought he would see anything like it for real.

The outfit struck him first; knee high, high heeled work-boots (they made those?!) trailed up long legs, and once reaching their full height, gave way to a set of black fishnet stockings, which terminated halfway up the thighs. They were held fast by garters, which in turn vanished under a pair of very short-cut daisy dukes jean shorts. His eyes lingered on the delectable curve of the rump the denim struggled to contain, then trailed upwards.

“Gwendolyn”, as she was being referred to, wore a very familiar, very recognizable green flannel shirt. One he had seen multiple times over previous summers. Once he saw that, his eyes shot straight up to the hat on her head. One very familiar, furred, beaver-pelt hat. When she turned around, he caught an eyeful of cleavage, and managed to blink back up to her face, where he bothered to count the freckles in a flash.

“You brought me out here to watch _Wendy_ take her clothes off?!” he hissed in a whisper at his twin. She snorted and gave him a gentle elbow to the ribs.

“Pffff, only most of them. And other girls are gonna be dancin’ up there too, yanno. Relax, Dip, we’re all adults, riiiight?” she fired back. With a sigh he nodded, only half upset; after all, watching his boyhood crush gyrate her hips was tantalizing, to say the very least.

 _Baby I wanna touch you,_  
I wanna breathe into your well.  
See I gotta hunt you,  
I gotta bring you to my hell!

Up on stage, Wendy plucked the hat off of her head and placed it daintily on the handle of her axe, then ran gloved fingers through that long, luxuriously red mane. Dipper squirmed in place as he listened to the lyrics of the song, watching her eyes scan the crowd. They didn’t seem to fall in any one place for very long, instead taking in everyone. Until they fell on him, and lingered for roughly a second or two. His heart lurched in his chest, as she sat down on the stump, legs crossing at the knees, and moved her fingers to the topmost fastened button of her shirt.

One button popped loose, then a second, and a third, before she stood up, feet braced at shoulder width to reveal a sturdy, black-and-green plaid corset underneath the shirt as she held it wide open. Peeling the garment free from her shoulders revealed the straps to a lacy bra that seemed to match the corset in fabric choices, shirt slipping down off of her arms as her body rocked to the beat of the music.

 _Baby I wanna fuck you,_  
I wanna feel you in my bones.  
Boy I’m gonna love you,  
I’m gonna tear into your soul…

On the words “fuck you”, there was a dramatic whip of her head, hair flowing freely as she locked her eyes on Dipper’s, tying the shirt around her waist like a makeshift skirt. He felt his stomach flutter, legs pressing tightly together as she playfully crooked a finger at him during the “feel you in my bones” line. He pointed at himself, and she merely winked as Mabel set a hand on his shoulder.

“Relax, bro-bro, part of the act,” she murmured to him. A sigh of both relief and mild disappointment left his lips. “Audience participation is limited to hoots and hollers.”

“Have you been coming to these shows without me?!”

“Nah, but I have been reading up on them, out of curiosity!” she noted, before whistling firmly at the stage.

Dipper managed to twist his head back around in time to see the redhead had turned her back to the crowd, bent at the waist, and slid those deliriously tight denim shorts down and over her boots, stepping out of them gingerly. With the garment hooked on a finger, she about-faced towards the crowd again, the other hand on her hip as she twirled the shorts over her head and back behind herself, joining the hat on the axe handle.

_Desire, I’m hun-gry,  
I hope you’ll feed me._

Previously under the shorts, the rest of the lacy black garter set was now exposed, as well as a set of dark, dark green panties that appeared to be more lace than substance. With a playful spin, it was revealed to the crowd that the panties did indeed cover up most of what she had in the back, but did nothing to hide much of it, with as sheer as the fabric was.

The lyrics of the song began to muddle together as Dipper watched the spectacle, Wendy placing one foot up on the stump and slowly, teasingly undoing the zipper on the back of it before stepping down and placing the other up in its place, undoing it as well. With a practiced sort of grace, she stepped out of the pair of boots, gently setting them up on the stump, on either side of the axe. The stockings themselves were a sheer black fishnet from her toes to her thighs, and despite having lost the high heeled boots, they looked as long as ever, and she seemed as though she were still every bit as tall as she was with them on.

Wendy gave another playful spin or two, hands reaching up to her chest, just below the swell of her breasts, where the zipper on her corset ended. Turning her back to the crowd, one hand gave a long, slow downwards pull. You could practically see the breath of relief as the pressure released on her midsection, hands holding each side of the corset out like a small cape. One hand let go, letting it swing down to reveal her naked back. Everyone in the audience let out a rowdy, playful cheer or whistle, and Dipper was a bit surprised that he was among them, having found his voice again.

She turned, giving her breasts a playful squeeze together that threatened to pop them from their cups, and Dipper’s eyes from their sockets. Before either of those could happen, her back was quickly turned back to the crowd, her hands sliding down her thighs, then back up to the garter straps that held her stockings in place. First one was undone, then the other, leaving the straps to dangle before she managed to peel the belt down off of her hips, stepping out of it. Next, placing a set of toes gently against the stump, she began to peel her way out of the stocking itself, leaving a bare, pale skinned leg in its wake. She duplicated this with the other stocking, leaving her barefoot.

Spinning her back to the crowd, she gave the strap on her left shoulder a playful nudge, inching it off of the flesh there to dangle beside her arm, then duplicating the effect on the right side. With one arm holding the bra up, her other hand snaked back to give the hooks on her garment a flick, expertly undoing it with a practiced display of skill. It popped free, still held fast to her chest by her hand as she turned back to face the audience.

A sly smile crossed over her face as she bent down, giving her upper body a playful wiggle. Then, with a twirl and a toss, the bra was gone, and all that kept her from being 100% exposed were a pair of small, shiny green patches over her nipples.

Dipper nearly had an aneurysm.

Before the music could end, she once again put her back to the crowd, and with an almost invisible motion, hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her panties. Bending down, her over-shirt, still tied firmly in place, hid what Dipper could only imagine was a heavenly sight from exposure, as he watched that lacy green material glide over her calves and onto the floor. As she stood up straight, stretching them out over her head and flicking them off to the side of the stage, she glanced back over her shoulder, a smug grin plastered on her face as she tugged at the knot of her over-shirt’s sleeves. Dipper gave a hearty shout of approval, to which she winked, undoing the knot and holding the shirt out wide, before letting it drop.

All she had on now were elbow-length gloves, two green pasties, and the tiniest, skimpiest string of fabric that could pass for a thong. Hands on her hips, she gave her backside a hearty jut out and a playful slap, just as the final lyrics of the song rang out, the music ending at the same time.

The audience roared, Mabel shouting the loudest “Shake it girlfriend!” she could muster before Wendy gave a playful bow and sauntered her way off stage. Dipper was a bit dumbfounded by everything he had just witnessed, but in a good way, it felt.

“Okay, Mabel,” he said, leaning over to talk over the still noisy crowd. “I gotta admit, this birthday surprise is lookin’ kind of hard to beat.”

“Oh, it’s far from over yet, Dippingsauce,” she replied with a teasing tone. He squinted at her, but all Mabel would do in response to that was flutter her eyelashes innocently.

Pacifica began to introduce the next dancer, and thoroughly engrossed in that, Dipper almost didn’t notice a new presence at the table he and his sister occupied until he lifted his glass to his lips to take a drink, and a gloved hand intercepted it. He nearly leapt out of his skin.

“Ah hell, I’m friggin’ parched after that dance, gimme some of that,” he heard a familiar voice demand as he spun around to watch Wendy, still as dressed (or undressed) as she had been when she left the stage, slamming down the rest of his hard cider without even blinking. With a satisfied sigh, she wrapped an arm around Dipper and half-hugged him against her naked torso. He was thankful for the dim lighting, as right now he probably looked like he’d been painted red.

“Oh, h-hey We-I mean, uh, Gwendolyn!” he stammered out. She grinned at him, that trademark “shit’s cool” grin she always seemed to wear back in Gravity Falls, then turned to wrap Mabel in the same style of hug, arms around each of them.

“How the hell have you two been?! You went pretty quiet a few years ago!” she exclaimed, grabbing one of the available chairs and seating herself-still mostly undressed-between the twins. Mabel just started babbling away, talking about school, work, and any other thing that sprang to mind. Dipper simply ordered another hard cider, as his own had been quaffed moments ago. Wendy patiently listened the whole time, nodding and chuckling when appropriate. There was finally a break in the story as Mabel reached for her own glass to take a drink, and Dipper seized the opportunity.

“So, uh, what leads one to indulge in this sort of… hobby?” he asked, rubbing at the back of his neck. Wendy swiveled to face him, shrugging.

“Eh, I never got to be very artsy back home, but I like to dance. I like to tease. Not too fond of the idea of doing stripping for a living-it’s just not me is all-and besides, the goods are for partner-eyes-only,” she noted, gesturing to the pasties that hid her nipples. “I get to leave something to the imagination, doing it this way.”

“Not much,” he mumbled in reply, pointedly looking anywhere but her mostly-naked form while they were talking. She quirked a brow and leaned over to catch his gaze.

“What’s the matter, Pines? Grow a conscience about lookin’ at my girls when I’m right here? I’m pretty sure I saw you following them pretty close when I was up on the stage!” He sputtered, shaking his head.

“I just… it seems kind of, very personal down here and less so when you’re on stage? I don’t wanna be a huge perv-”

“Too late!” Mabel cheerfully interjected, to which he waved her off, eyes rolling.

“Dip, dude, you act like you haven’t entertained the idea of me sittin’ naked like this, chit chatting with you before.” He was certain he was _glowing_ red, now, he was blushing so hard. “If it bugs you that much, I can change back into my street clothes, dude.”

“I, uh, I don’t wanna impose or-” he began, but she stood up, grabbed his wrist and tugged him to his feet. She was _still_ taller than he was!

“Alright then, c’mon, we’ll talk while I get dressed,” she noted. “I’ll have him back to you in one piece, unless he blows a gasket on the way back, Mabel.”

“Just don’t break him too bad, he’s got the hotel room key!” she called out as Wendy tugged her brother to the backstage area.

“Am, uh, am I supposed to be back here?” he stammered nervously. Wendy chuckled and playfully socked him on the shoulder with a loose fist.

“Dude, we’re the only two back here, plus this is my dressing room… space… thing.” She motioned at the curtains that were hung, creating a somewhat private cubicle with a tiny desk to do makeup at, as well as a privacy screen to change behind. “You stand right here while we chit chat, and it’ll be no harm, no foul, dig?”

He just nodded, staring at the wall for a moment. Wendy vanished behind the screen and tugged clothes out of a chest, and the lighting painted her lithe, curvy silhouette onto the fabric perfectly. Was she _trying_ to give him a heart attack?!

“So, uh, where did you get those boots? I mean, I’ve seen high-heeled, knee high boots but never work boots,” he asked. She let out a satisfied laugh at the question.

“I had to make those myself, man. Hell, all the girls here with the troupe make about eighty percent of their own wardrobes, when they need stuff custom!” she happily explained. “I had to sew that bra and corset, too. Nobody makes them in flannel, like that.”

“I, wow. Doesn’t that get kind of expensive?” Her shadow nodded.

“It can be, but you learn real quick to get thrifty. Plus on a good night you can score a decent chunk of tips,” she mused. “I mean, they pass a jar around to gather up money after each dance. I think I made you miss that, sorry.”

“I, uh, is it good etiquette to tip or,” he started, grabbing his wallet and thumbing through it. She snorted.

“I can hear that creaky, leather wallet, man, and you put it away! It’s your birthday, you’re not blowin’ any dosh on my tits or ass.” He snorted himself, at that, laughing heartily.

“Am I that predictable?” he muttered as she stepped around the screen, fully dressed. She nodded as she grabbed him in a headlock and noogied through his hat, causing him to squirm.

“Of course you are, you’re Dipper Pines, dude. Now let’s go out there and watch some more of the show!”

=========

The next few acts were all as pleasantly strange and sensual as the last, and the intermission featured a magician who also did stand up during his routine. As the night wound down, Dipper found himself trying to brainstorm a way to top this entire experience the next year.

 _A date like this seems hard to beat_ , he mused internally, before frowning. _It’s NOT a date, you idiot. She’s your sister, you’ve chickened out every time you wanted to tell her how you feel, just enjoy what you have. Stop thinking about ruining a friendship like that._

“Hey, sourpuss,” Mabel said as she gave his side a tweak, which made him leap out of his seat. “Whoa-ho, hey now, just me giving your tickle spots a pinch to getcha out of that brain stank I can see fuming on your face. I gotta powder my nose, Bro-bro,” she mentioned, hooking a thumb over her shoulder. He nodded.

“Oh, uh, yeah! Hurry up, though, I think the next act is the last one,” he stated. She just smiled and nodded, scampering off. A few minutes passed, and Pacifica marched out onto the stage.

“Well, Ladies and Germs, it’s always a sad thing to reach the end of a good thing, isn’t it?” A few people shouted their agreement, and Dipper nodded emphatically. “Well, tonight I want all of you to make a wish as we welcome a rookie to the stage! Performing for the first time, making her debut as our finale, it’s Miss Wishuppona Star!”

Dipper clapped, but stared at the empty seat where his sister had been sitting. Where the devil had she gotten too? As he debated texting her to get her nose-and whatever else-powdered faster, a line of familiar piano music played, something from an old Disney movie he hadn’t watched for a good long while. He took a sizable swig of his drink.

The spotlight hit the stage, where a brunette girl, face downcast, wearing a heavy wool shawl over her shoulders, a big blue ribbon bow in her hair, and long flowing skirt started to sing.

 _“Dearest Friends,_  
Dear Gentlemen,  
Listen to my song,”

After nearly choking, he spit the mouthful of cider back into his glass and coughed, eyes staring. It was Mabel, _**Mabel**_ was up there singing, and soon to be dancing, and taking off her clothing and all sorts of other things. In front of all of these people! In front of _HIM_.

_“Life down here’s been hard for you,  
Life has made you strong!”_

Dipper’s eyes scanned the crowd, which was actually perfectly silent as they watched, a fair few of them smiling warmly. Okay, maybe it wasn’t so bad, but then he remembered that Mabel had brought him here. She had brought her brother to watch her strip away most of her outfit, and he was suddenly overwhelmed with a new brand of nervousness; how transparent was he?!

_“Let me lift the mood,  
With my attitude…”_

With a tiny bit of a shrug and a wink, she turned to one side, giving the flare of the skirt a kick out, revealing a frilly bit of fabric that lined the hem. She stepped lightly, then kicked out again with the other foot; she seemed to be taking a more old school approach to the song and dance routine of burlesque.

 _“Hey fellas, the time is right!_  
Get ready, tonight’s the night!  
Boys what you’re hopin’ for will come true!  
Let me be good to you!”

Mabel gave a small spin and a backwards kick with one foot, shoulders shrugging to keep her balance before kicking the same foot out forward again to land softly. She had clearly, clearly been looking into this more than she had previously let on if she had come up with an entire routine! On the last line, she looked over at Dipper and playfully pointed, winking again.

He took an enormous gulp of his drink.

_“You tough guys,  
you’re feeling all alooone,”_

Mabel placed heavy emphasis on the word ‘alone’, hugging her arms around herself as she gave her torso a small side-to-side shake.

 _“You rough guys,_  
The best of you sailors and bums,  
All are my chums!”

She pranced back and forth on the stage slowly as she sang, giving small waves and head nods out into the crowd, getting cheers of approval each time. Every time her gaze fell on Dipper, his heart skipped a beat and his mouth dried out.

_“So dream on, and drink your beer,  
Get cozy, your baby’s here!”_

Another wink, a blown kiss, a toss of the head and a playfully jutting of the rump punctuated that line. Dipper began to think of what should be written on his tombstone, as he was certain his heart was going to leap up out of his throat.

 _“You won’t be misunderstood,_  
Let me be good,  
To Yooouuu!”

Transfixed on his sister’s antics/routine, Dipper had failed to notice the curtains on stage were down, until Mabel parted them, stepped between them, and pulled them closed as she sang the last verse. He marveled at how she had managed to flawlessly reproduce the routine, despite the fact that he was certain she hadn’t watched the movie she was honoring with it for years now.

The curtains parted, and suddenly Mabel was without shawl, and was wearing what appeared to be a shiny, spandex leotard under the skirt. She had also managed to, in the scant two seconds the curtains were drawn, to slip on elbow length, black velvet gloves.

_“Hey fellas!  
I’ll take off all my blues!”_

At those words, a hidden fastener on the side of her skirt was undone and the skirt flung away, revealing the spandex one piece revealed to be very much like a swimsuit, but with a feathery material around the leg-holes. The entire outfit glittered with sequins, sparkling a bright blue. A frilly garter was halfway up her right thigh. Dipper’s jaw was on his chest.

 _“Hey fellas!_  
There’s nothing I won’t do,”   


She paused to nod at Dipper as she bent at the waist and rocked her hips his direction, the feathers waving as they framed the curve of her backside under the sequins. He thanked the powers that be that japanese cartoons weren’t real, as he was certain he’d be spraying a nose-bleed all over the table.

_“Just for you!”_

He gulped, and shifted to look around the room. A few people nodded at him, gave thumbs up of approval, or gave him jealous but congratulatory glances. Wendy just grinned and gave her eyebrows a playful wiggle. His head whipped from stage to redhead a few times, and she merely replied by giving him a thumbs up from her seat at the bar, before shouting words of encouragement to his sister.

The instrumental section that followed had her leaning down to playfully tug at the garter, lowering it bit by bit with each drumbeat, until she had it off of her leg and flinging it expertly towards Dipper. On instinct he snatched it out of the air, and once he realized just what he had caught he hastily set it on her side of the table. He was convinced that you could start a fire off of his face.

_“So dream on, and drink your beer!  
Get cozy, your baby’s here!”_

Sitting down on the edge of the stage, she crossed, uncrossed, and recrossed her legs before hopping down and sauntering her way over towards Dipper, who was shrinking into his seat. Nobody but Pacifica and Wendy knew who they were, but it was enough to set his heart racing as fight-or-flight tried to sort it out. He never got the chance to decide, as she climbed up to sit herself firmly in his lap, one arm around his shoulders.

 _“Hey boy,_  
I’m talkin to you!  
Your baby’s gonna come through,  
Let me be good,  
To yooouuu!”

She ended the song with a big, wet smooch planted directly on her brother’s cheek. The crowd erupted with applause and whistles, as well as a few shouts of “Lucky bastard!” Dipper could only sit dumbfounded as Mabel giggled, waving at the crowd as Wendy came over to give him another playful punch on the shoulder, which snapped him out of his trance.

“Wh-ow!”

“Heh, happy birthday dude. Have fun,” she noted, giving him a wink as she marched back over to the bar. His eyes closed in a few rapid blinks before he turned back to his sister.

“What did she mean? Mabel, what did she meammmff!”

His reiteration of the question was cut off by a quick pressing of Mabel’s lips to his own, before she pulled away with a big “Muah!”

“I… uh… Mabes?”

“Yeah, bro-bro?”

“What, uh…” He had a million questions racing through his head, and he struggled to think of which one to spit out first. Before one could cross the finish line, she piped up.

“I didn’t mean to blindside ya, Dipstick. I’ve, uh, known, since the concert,” she said matter-of-factly. He frowned, brow furrowing. “How you feel, I mean?”

“H-how did you-”

“It’s been mutual, man. You kinda wear your emotions on your sleeve, even when you think you’re being all secret about’em.” He felt every bit of redness that had crept onto his face drain away as he turned ghostly white.

“You… don’t hate me? You’ve known for _five years_ and you don’t hate me?!”

“I’ve been in the same boat, ya dump-ass,” she shot back, blowing a brief raspberry. “I just figured that, much like I think you did, we shouldn’t be making our weird-twin-thing an even-weirder-twin-thing, yanno? Afraid of how some people might react?” She glanced over at Wendy as she said that, a relieved smile on her face. “Or, even, how the other might react?”

Tight lipped, he just nodded, mind trying to piece it all together. So the entire time, each of them had been trying to get up the nerve to get these emotions out in the open, for better or worse, and they had been failing each time they had a birthday outing?

“Wow,” he mumbled, and she quirked her head to the side.

“Wuzzat mean?” she demanded.

“I guess this one’s going to be nearly impossible to top, huh?” he laughed, causing her to grin at him excitedly.

“Haha, does that mean I win the birthday challenge?!”

He rolled his eyes at her, tugging her in to plant a smooch at the edge of her lips before nosing up to her ear.

 “I dunno, I think the best gift is yet to come tonight, right?” To his surprise, she blushed a bright red color as she bit at her lower lip, backside giving a small wiggle of excitement in his lap. “Well then, happy birthday to me.”


End file.
